Heart-Shaped Glasses
by biscuitmeow
Summary: She was his angel, He was her demon. She tasted like alcohol and innocence, smelled like roses, a sin herself.
1. Prologue

_Song for the Chapter: Heart-Shaped Glasses, Marilyn Manson_

The tint of blush on her fair cheek made her hesitate to come out of her room when she finishes applying the color of her lips. The pinks and reds of her face and body had contrasted with her creamy, pale skin. She looks 'alluring' as the other female heartseekers should look like even though Shauna Vayne had a 'motivating' talk with her after the news of her being the next. Lux even offered to aid her with the 'assets' of her looks and all. Quinn, however, responded calmly and said that she could handle herself well in dressing up quite... femininely. She pursed her lips after that though, she doesn't know a thing. But the look of her reflection on the mirror doesn't say, otherwise.

She sighed, contemplating on her decision of battling in the fields of justice wearing an outfit that exposed most of her shoulders and a slight cleave of her breasts peeking through the 'lovely' top that hued shades of red and pink, the colors of love and other heart-shaped somethings. Gods, what would they see? She looked like she was going to seduce somebody (painfully, it was meant to be) instead of threatening her opponents in the field, given the fact that she will strut in purple stockings and grey flats and not sprint with her usual boots. In her point of view, she looked like a bar whore wearing a costume. If she wasn't holding a weapon, she will. Quinn, the Wings of Demacia, wearing a dress and as hilarious as it sounds, she looks the part anyway. Of all the female marksmen, it had to be her. 'The bird gave it away' the others said. If it weren't for Valor, she wouldn't be pouting in front of a mirror with her hair done.

She made a disgusted look on her face. Posing for a picture in this 'clownsuit' will not be as easy as fighting in it. She jumps and tumbles in the air with a skirt, how lovely yet it isn't an excuse given the fact that cupid shoots strangers with arrows in a diaper. But he was a baby. Quinn thought, running a hand through her dyed hair and turned on her heels to retrieve her quiver and crossbow in annoyance and went for the door.

...

She winked at him. She never winks. But as soon as his curious gaze found hers, she did. Too curious as it seems.

He has seen her bare, seen her barely clothed and yet this thing about her dress was mysteriously drawing in his attention unlike anything she'd worn. Was she playing him? The spark in her eyes says otherwise. He swallowed his drink, feeling the warm liquid burn in his throat as his eyes followed her as she sat on a bar stool beside him. "Can't avert your eyes to something else, can you?" She asked in a sweet, poisonous voice, making his eyes blink several times to doze off the alcohol fogging his mind to find his voice.

"Can't help it. My eyes can't do that. But I can." To gossipmonger's ear, he sounds like he's starting to flirt. "Why, do you have a boyfriend to be too cautious?"

"Maybe you can say that he is."

"Maybe I can steal his girl."

"Then...what are you gonna do about it?" She asked again, this time, in a soft, flirty voice that seems to haze his senses more, averting his gaze to her revealed cleavage as she leaned forward, faces merely inches apart.

"I think... I'll buy you a drink to make up for it. By the way, pretty women like you aren't supposed to be drinking alone in a bar full of _armed_ men."

"Are you offering me a drinking partner or a bodyguard? "

"Just that first thing you said." He trailed off, deepening his voice to a husky tone saying, "And I've always been the second one."

"You're just jealous because you think you're the only one who's allowed stare at my skin." Her voice was low yet agitated. This drunk bastard can't outsmart her. "And it's not my fault I'm trapped in this dress."

"Hm... I'll give you that. But what else?" He asked her, an eyebrow raised. "It suits you though. Maybe you could wear that when you come to the mansion sometime."

"A Drink."

"Maybe a room." She slapped his thigh, making him burst into a soft chuckle.

"Fuck you, Noxian."

She remembered the hand on his thigh, pulling it away from him until he caught it, now pulling her forcefully onto his lap. She could almost hear a drunk Jhin whispering another 'Ooh...I can sense the sexual tension around.'

"You can say that again."

He whispered onto her lips as he landed his on the corner of her mouth, then pressing his forehead on hers.

"Talon, they'll see us."

"They're all drunk. Just like I am. Just like you'll be."

He took his shot glass, pouring the contents of the bottle of whiskey and handing it to her who had an arm wrapped around him. She took it willingly and downed it as fast as she could hissing at the burn down her throat. "Shit."

"Feel drunk yet?"

"Of course I'm not, asshole."

She took the bottle and drank without hesitation. Maybe her assassin would be amused to see her drink unlike any other decent woman would. This day would be an exception. And yet, he was impressed.

"Now you are." He whispered, kissing her lips fervently, devouring her lips that tasted of alcohol and sweet nothings. Their tongues entwined as she pulled him closer with the hand that wasn't holding the bottle. He was just holding holding her so they wouldn't fall from the stool. She was a damn good kisser.

"Not here."

"I told you...the-"

"Talon." She said, holding his face with both of her hands. "Not. Here."

His eyes slowly opened wider in realisation and smirked at his scout, scooping her in a swift motion.

"Won't your boyfriend come and chase me 'til death?"

"Oh, I'm sure he won't mind." She winked again, making him flush and wishing she had heart-shaped glasses to conceal her eyes from his vision.

"Yeah, he won't."

...

The alcohol was taking effect as he laid her down gently on the crimson sheets that match the color of her garb, making the sweetest noises that could ever come from her mouth. The dress she wore, was alluring. Revealed more of her womanly curves than her former garb. Her hair was dyed a light pink which he didn't mind much. His arms were still wrapped around her delicate waist as his towering frame loomed over her. His hood was down dark eyes scanning her revealing form.

He had to admit, the dress was stupid. A mere costume that displays the colors of love itself. As stupid as love the dress is and as stupid as he is, developing intimacy with his rival. His sweet, tempting rival that he wanted to devour at this moment.

His face was descending on hers, slowly tracing her soft, sweet red lips with his. And her body trembling at his innocent tease. He rested his weight on her, slowly pinning her waist with his hips on the sheets. His hands, running up from her shoulders to her arms above her head as he kissed her tenderly, their faces hidden under the long locks of his hair as he deepened the kisses she was willing to return. She tastes like honey, smells like roses, sounds like an angel, humming through his rough kisses, begging for the air that's left of the dark room. She grasped his hands, pleading for more of him yet they both needed oxygen for heaven's sake. She buried her head further down the soft sheets, a weak attempt to free from his hungry lips and breathe in all the air she needs to kiss him for all the time she needs. And then she opened her eyes only to see her assassin's eyes grow darker, hungrier as if a wolf was staring at a lamb. He saw her eyes too beyond the cloud of lust in his mind. They were sweet, innocent and tempted. He could tell she was giving in to this forsaken sin and not a hint of guilt seen in the light that's left of it. She closed them again, giving in as he bucked his hips against hers, feeling him through the layers of fabric, the only thing that stands between them. He growled, bucking his hips harder, making her gasp as he released her hands to strip off the stockings that hid her thighs. His hands found the hem of her purple stockings at the base of her soft ass and he gripped them before he started to peel them off her as she snapped her feet up, wrapping her arms around him. They were breathing on each others' lips as his face descended on her neck, breathing, licking and sucking on it as her lips parted, making the sweet sounds he needed to pleasure her again.

She felt the moisture between her thighs as he touched her bare skin, gentle, calloused hands eager to touch every part of it. She moaned loudly as he started to buck deeper even if he was merely teasing. But what more if the clothes weren't there. It was a sinful thought to convince her to strip him off too. She hated the existence of clothes at this point. Then again, she felt his erection in between her thighs, confusion clouded her mind as she grasped his hooded cloak, eagerly pulling them off with one hand and unclasping it with her other. His luscious, soft hair cascaded down her neck as he started to bite her, making her eager to return his gesture and she grasped his hair before peeling him off his shirt and leather straps, revealing his tanned, scarred, well-built upper that left her staring before she realized he too, was observing the curiosity that marred her face. He almost stopped breathing as he saw her angelic face turn a darker shade of red as she wrapped her bare legs around his waist. "I want...you" she mouthed. A dark chuckle was his response, seeing her face scrunch up in confusion. She wanted this as badly as he did and they were both willing to give each other that. And hungrily, he dug down to give himself in to devouring her again. This time, his kisses were of passion, lust and hunger. She moaned, and moaned and moaned, feeling herself burst in the moment she shared with the assassin she sinned with. Talon. Oh, his name, she thought. Such a sweet, sweet lover she shared a night with. Too many to count and yet, why was this one more different?

He released her lips slowly, feeling her lipstick smear on his. She let out a small giggle, wiping off the red on his lips as he watched her smile fade, pressing his forehead against his scout, Quinn. Quinn who was either an angel or a demon in bed. Right now, she was... more. He wanted her. Needed her. Like other nights, his silent pleads was every pleasure he gave and took, but now he wanted to explore something beyond all those.

"Talon?" She asked. She always asks. He could tell they were both getting more impatient in each second that passes by. He wanted to feel her hot entrance swallow his hard shaft. He wanted her to moan and moan like it was all he ever wanted her to do.

He bit down her clavicle, feeling her tremble underneath him, she almost squirms as he sucked on the skin of her shoulders. She gasped, feeling his errant hands on her breasts, squeezing them. "Gods, Talon. You're tight." She threw her head back. The pleasure was too much. This was wrong and yet it feels so right in every single way she either understands or can't explain in words. He was a demon, she could tell by the way they spent each night together. The way he thrusts in her, sinful. The way he moans her name, sinful. And when he finishes, he wants more. She gasped, realizing her own dirty thoughts will become a reality after they strip off the fucking damn clothes.

His face descended down were his hands were, biting the flesh beneath the fabric that covered it. And he started to take the stupid dress off of her. Her worked through the fabric that held them together to the skirt of the dress. He started to lift it all off of her, tracing her womanly curves as he peeled it all off, revealing each corner of what she hides underneath. Soft, creamy, pale tempting skin. And her modesty bounced slightly as the dress was full discarded and he threw it off in exitement. He dug down to taste all of it, licking her belly up to the base of her breast. He managed to put one in his mouth gently as he watched her body writhe underneath and her face scrunch up in pleasure and let out a loud moan as he sucked on it hungrily. She closed her eyes, feeling his hot mouth devour her flesh.

Sinful, sinful Quinn.

 _A/N:_ _Review please_ _:) Next Piece: Bloodstream._


	2. 1 : Violet

**Chapter 1**

 _"I couldn't take my eyes off her but that's not what I took off that night."_

...

..

.

Where he last saw her again, she was in the mess hall, sketching the newly polished weapon in front of her, specially designed to match the hues of her garb. It matched the color of her dyed hair and the molten gold of her eyes. He'd remember seeing her wearing this. Once when he saw her arrive in the institute from a mission in Bilgewater along with a few champions. She looked as sharp as ever. More skin from her arms were exposed and less littered by tattoos he last saw her wearing. She looked more of the woman he thought was capable of such confidence and beauty. As if it wasn't a normal thing for him to do, he still couldn't take his eyes off the scout.

Then again, she's sitting alone among all the tables fully occupied by the other champions. It seems as if they didn't mind how much space there was on her table. She always sat alone, watched some of the battles alone and face her own problems alone alongside the bird she'd called a companion. The assassin would be lying to himself if he didn't want to be beside her at least. If he was in her shoes, he'd lose his mind in only one day talking to a bird and taking orders from a man born to be worshipped. He respected her, because he saw the strength that mirrored his even before thinking of being in her shoes.

But then there he was, observing her from the shadows, hoping he'd have the courage to wave a simple hello. Not after he left her sleeping in his bed a few days ago. Talon wouldn't admit it to himself that he regret leaving her there. He remembered tucking her gently in his bed, keeping her warm from the cool morning breeze and the way her face scrunched slightly as he stood from the bed, not wanting to rouse her from her slumber.

"Talon."

Then it snapped him back from his thoughts and turned to see a hooded summoner whose voice is ever so familiar. A child of Noxus it seemed. One of the Noxian summoners who looked up to him.

"You're requested to be summoned." He stated in a proud voice.

The assassin's response was the usual, do as they say. He only joined the league to acquire some things he needed. And the salary was only a bonus yet the other champions he worked with made it harder. Not of their strength but of their cause.

As he made his way to the summoning chambers, he didn't notice the summoner look back at where he last laid his eyes on.

...

..

.

The layout for the new batch of skins just arrived and the "Blood Moon Festival" was upon them, its origin is from Ionia. And about some vengeful lady on a bloodhunt. Not that he cared but the weight of the garments he was fitted in made him agitated. He was given a mask and how the hell can he throw daggers properly if his peripheral view was limited. His hood didn't bother him but masks? His hood was enough to hide his face but why a mask?

"Is this even neccessary?" He asked the woman measuring his legs.

"Yes and you have to live with it. Without a mask, youre not wearing a Blood Moon outfit."

"Then can you at least poke a bigger hole in this... thing" He said, taking the mask off and poked a finger through an eyehole.

"I'll see what I can do. Now hold still. This is why I'm doing this sooner for better adjustments."

He cursed under his breath. After a long match an hour ago, he wanted to rest his mind from the tiring commands of the summoner. One of Noxian blood. Always wants to be in control especially when having the privelege to.

And after all that, he got to stand a few more minutes. A few more moments of suffering for the assassin.

There was something that caught his eye on the table not too far from him and he was certain it was his blades. A design sheet maybe? He inched closer to it, trying not to get out of the insufferable woman's sight and grabbed the small pile of papers. He gets red arm cuffs and blades that bleed before it could even cut through skin. He must be lucky to be hand-picked by the moon as Diana said. He drew blood from his victims so why not wear its shade?

Satisfaction yet he had to wait.

He held the papers in his hand and can't help but pull out a random sheet and suddenly, the woman snatched it with ease and the rest of the pile.

"Peeking through these files might spoil you Mr. Du Couteau. We like to avoid other champions or summoners seeing them before they're even made." Her accent rivaled a certain Fiora Laurent.

He sighed.

Bullshit. She talks to much and he's getting bored. _Isn't she too old to be_ _a summoner?_

A few seconds til she snapped her notebook closed and dismissed him.

...

..

.

Violet. All he could think of was violet.

How the red stain of blood mixed with the blue of his garments remind him of the color. Not that its too obvious but it was a familiar thing to see. He remember seeing the red on his sister's hair and blue from other champions yet his thoughts betrayed him and led his interest to the violet-haired woman. Quinn. Her uniqueness and raw strength. The passion he feels from her affection. She was his drug as he was her sin.

They were both killers. Murderers. But star-crossed lovers was an odd lable to these two strong individuals. Often alone but not lonely. But alas, they're both still human. Humans who crave affection. Humans who lust over those who hey think are their equals.

He wanted to see her again.

...

 **Note:** Sorry for the wait. I had some shit to deal with aka shame because of my writing skills and because I am in an inappropriate age of writing these kinds of stuff and please do check out my deviant art. Give me writing tips and prompts.


	3. 2 : True Blue

**Chapter 2**

" _She'll never cover up what we did with her dress... no._ "

...

..

.

There was a deep hole inside of herself, wanting it to be filled. Aren't they always? They were meant to be filled and not just ignored or one day, someone might fall in terribly. She had issues with herself. Remembering the day her parents may or may not have kicked her out playfully because of her lack of beloved or child. She couldn't come home 'til she would bring someone home. While her parents come of age and make the most of every moment they had with each other.

She should miss them but she doesn't. As long as she knows they're safe, happy and together. Although they did write random letters to her. Like one of their anniversaries and she received a letter that somehow teased her. Her parents always joked her about a fine man and golden-eyed children. No. At least not yet.

Even if they seemed to be the most optimistic people in Uwendale, she always remembered the small glint of sadness in their eyes. Loss, maybe or pity. They lost a child, the other was fighting for their Nation and doesn't have a boyfriend, also she might die at any time and didn't leave a single grandchild. If that sums it up, it adds to her guilt.

She might as well borrow some books in the library and read a romantic novel if one was waiting for her to be read. Maybe some green tea and become the stereotypical introverted left-handed person she was. Some part of her immature mind was showing and it reminded her how much she'd missed growing up as a teenager. A female one and the excitement of being with a boy.

She needed a mission from the summoners to get her mind off of things. Maybe it's the effects of isolation from fellow adults like her. There was no one for her to befriend. Jarvan has her "friend" but not that type she could talk to about things. Women don't just talk to men about dating problems.

Valor, yes. She needed to practice their daily routine. A trust flight similar to what they've performed often in the fields of justice. Well, after his hunt for food outside and it was almost lunch. She has to go to the mess hall as early as she can or the place will get crowded with her fellow champions.

She took her journal and the book she borrowed, opened the door and left without a sound.

As she passed through the other rooms of the different champions of her faction, she can't help but think about how introverted she has been. Awkward with human interactions, feels like she was apart from the crowd. It was in her nature to be alone but it didn't mean she didn't want "company". She often sat alone and eat, sketch or watch matches and whatnot. Sometimes, she would head back to her room and wait to be summoned or bury her nose into a book in the library. Books were interesting. And believe it or not, her travels around Runeterra made her realize that knowledge were sought even by the meanest pirates in Bilgewater or the most unique Hybrids in Ionia. It was unusual but it was also a welcoming sight to see.

She counted her steps and looked ahead. Noxus. Noxian rooms. _Shit._ She was too preoccupied with her thoughts that she forgot to keep her down at all costs when passing by Noxian territory. The most awkward stares between a rival to another and the peace they were trying to keep among themselves. Like that time she saw Emilia Evaine LeBlanc in the simplest clothes she'd seen her in and with the lack of weapon she always held. It made her scream internally that day, feeling like she just evaded her privacy by just passing through their quarters. Even if they were both women and had the same color of hair. And damn, that one comment of hers once when they were allies in the fields- " _You'd make a fine Noxian with your rebellious attitude._ " and gave her a malicious smirk. Quinn got it at first glance. Who would think someone as loyal as her to Demacia show a display of Noxian traits. Not to mention how often Valor acted more like a ravenous vulture than a proud eagle.

She wanted to avoid those encounters as much as possible.

She brushed her way past the room of the executioner, Draven and started to pace until she heard a door openand met the familiar eyes of the man she'd shared a bed with and she'd sworn to forget. She stopped dead in her tracks, seeing his white hood over his groomed hair made her stomach churn- She wasn't expecting him to wear this, it made him look younger than he was. He looked like one of the boys in the shows that Lux was watching. He cleaned up nicely and as much as she was staring at him, she had to go and passed through him without a word or greeting.

She acted as if she didn't hear him turn around and that his sienna eyes weren't laid on her back. It was a terrifying feeling.

Her encounter with LeBlanc wasn't the worst case scenario at all.

...

..

.

How she would sleep that night, She can't imagine how terrifying it was to have a balcony anyone could climb at the large room she was in. Now that there was a lethal assassin she labelled as a pet was onto her. She'd cursed Valor for his absence and eventual return. She had to wait because she had to keep the balcony door open so that Valor could enter. But that was when she was asleep. She remembered the days she would wake up and see the slightest evidence that someone else was in her room that night. Someone who watched her sleep in her thin nightclothes and could have read her journal that night. Not that there was that much intel there but the private thoughts she'd written in every page between the hard covers. She was wrapping a blue shawl around her to ward off the night breeze that found its way through the small gaps of her door.

She waited patiently for Valor to arrive. He was taking his time. It didn't take him this long aften. Maybe he met a female, who knows?

Quinn laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She blinked twice, hoping to hear the familiar squawking of her avian companion. She heard a thud and shot straight up from her bed, looking at the source of the sound. She exhaled audibly, feeling colder and colder as the clock ticked and the minute passed.

Maybe just this time she'd let sleep take her and his eyes undress her.


	4. 3 : Cornflower

**Chapter 3**

" _She reminds me of the one I knew..._ "

...

..

.

Quinn did not have many friends in her life. She could only count a few in her hands. Some were those who had their lives indebted to her, those who dared to stay in her small circle of friends and those who remained loyal to her no matter what issue comes and goes. Especially Lux who got along with almost everyone including her and Sona, the Maven of Strings, and her adoptive mother had been indebted to Quinn and her deceased brother.

Somehow, without even noticing it, she ignored Lux countless times. She had once hoped that the blond-haired mage won't recognise her whenever they cross paths. She had admit that she somehow envies her- jealous even. Her carefree attitude clashed with her vigilant and rebellious one. While Lux was being paraded by admirers and numerous fans, Quinn had been a lonely shadow that shrouded the whole place. The Demacian Scout was more fond of solitude and Valor's company than any other living being. The Light Mage had everything and could have anything that she'd ever want. Quinn had to deal with everything that worked against her to achieve her dreams.

But then there they were, both in the same place but in different spotlights that showed more of her friend's admirable talents than her perseverance and determination.

Lux was beautiful. She looked more of a goddess than a warrior, a beacon of hope and light. A noblewoman that came from a well-known family that supported her every step of the way, without any worries for money and education. Who was she compared to this flawless woman? The scout may be a swift and cunning warrior but she had her own insecurities. She was a woman too. Feminine under the layers of armor that she wore, a devoted and passionate lass behind the face of a soldier. But still, being out of her friend's league, she had been accepted no matter how boyish or unrefined she looked.

The education she kept hidden were forgotten whenever this luminous person smiled at her.

Quinn had never experienced the milestones of being a teenager, but Lux's invitation to dinner brought her back to the moments she had yet to experience.

Since the war was dormant, they had more time to themselves than usual. She could finally live the life once taken from her, a chance to take care of herself more than achieving goals to be proven worthy.

Lux convinced her to put 'something' on. One that wasn't much of a necessity because the diners outside the institute were not too fancy. But it is new to her. One little night of dressing up won't hurt this precious ranger. Although her wardrobe consisted mostly of shirts and sweatpants, she also had a few skirts and dresses given to her as a gift from either her mother or Miss Lestara. She silently thanked them both for their generosity and concern for her personal life as she shuffled through the clothes inside of her cabinet.

She found the cornflower blue dress her momma gave her last snowdown. Thankfully, it matched her indigo locks and golden irises.

Quinn held the apron dress in front of the mirror beside her cabinet to see how she'll look later on. Once satisfied, she layed the dress on her bed and somehow, the color was nostalgic as if she had seen the familiar hues of a certain assassin she knew of. Her stomach was filled with butterflies at the thought of him.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar cawing of her companion, her thoughts discarded. His wings flapped at the glass door of her balcony.

"I know, I know just wait you over-sized feather duster." She said, opening the cabinet that hid her falconer's gauntlet and rushed to let the Demacian Eagle in who eagerly landed on Quinn's protected arm.

She smoothed his crown, earning a peck on her cheek.

"So, are you ready to kick ass today?"

He cooed, nuzzling his beak on her nose. She laughed as she said, "Let me put my gear on first, Val."

She has been assigned on an early morning match, working with one of the summoners who she'd known ever since. As she wore her body suit over her black tank top, her mind drifted to the numerous battles she'd been through with her. This summoner was eager to prove that Quinn was still a worthy champion in the fields of justice. She had been considered a wildcard pick lately, after her tag team with Valor had been brought out of the game, summoners doubted her ability to deliver her new skill set. Summoner Cielo however, knew her capabilities all too well. They were a force to be reckoned with. Although summoners with higher ranks criticized them, nothing stopped them from doing what they did best- not give a fuck about what anyone thinks. They had the same spirit, and that was why their minds synchronized well. She had to thank the summoner for believing in her when no one else did. To some it all business but it seems that this friend of hers did it for the joy of playing. Beating those who doubted her into a pulp was the most satisfying thing she could imagine.

She strapped each of the layers of her armor hastily, not wanting to be late for her first match of the day, looking forward to the well-deserved breakfast that have been waiting for her in the mess hall after the game.

"Let's go, Val." She called out to the large eagle, moving her right arm firmly for her companion to perch on the gauntlet with ease. The ranger reached out for the crossbow that she had set on her bedside table.

It was one of her habits, keeping any kind of weapon near her whenever she sleeps. Naturally, for a person who practically lived in enemy territory, keeping herself alive and breathing was one of her chores.

As Quinn walked out of her rooms, she felt a slight nostalgia at the silence in the halls. The quiet passage smelled familiar, the cold air was welcoming to her. The cream walls, the white doors of the rooms of her fellow Demacian champions, the potted plants that hung on the walls reasured her.

 _Another day in the institute_. _You're doing this for Demacia, for Caleb, for yourself._ Valor cawed. _And for Valor of course._

A small cloaked figure approached her from the side.

"Good morning Miss Quinn. I apologise for requesting to summon you at this hour. I didn't know what came over me, I was a bit excited." Summoner Cielo said, pulling her hood down to reveal her young face. A powerful Ionian with talents that rivaled most the people in her tribe. Or at least, that was the reason why she is here. A representative and not a volunteer. It was clear on her face that she was not of proper age to become a professional magic wielder but she did it mostly for her tribe of course.

And after a few years, she had grown to enjoy it.

"Summoner, how many times have I told you that you need not to apologise. It is my duty after all. And my friend and I could use a warm-up." Quinn replied enthusiastically, making the young mage's face light up.

"That's good. Because we're going to face Zed in the middle lane." She paused. "Again." Summomer Cielo's strongest champion picks are mostly top laners and Quinn is indeed in the roster. But last minute lane switches was one of her weak spots, especially having to plot another strategy against the enemy laner. _Especially against the Master of Shadows._

"So who's going to summon him then?"

"Um.. a Noxian I think. And you know how much they could be rowdy sometimes right?"

"And reckless."

"And reckless."

"Don't worry, we'll be just fine."

"I'm just worried about what other summoners will think about you. The chances of picking you might be lower and I don't want to fail you."

"You've never failed me. Most of the times we've had our hardships were because of the pressure our team mates gave us."

"Yeah. Team mates." Her smile faded, obviously worried about something.

"So am I going to wear the suit?"

"The usual one of course, I know how much discomfort that dress had given you. We're going for our usual badass one."

* * *

 _"We don't know what happened. Gone in an instant. That's what they said." She panicked for a second._

 _Talon had never seen his sister tremble this way despite her every attempt to control it. It wasn't fear, but the nostalgia of losing more valued soldiers and the capture of three Noxian officials reminded her of their father's disappearance. Those soldiers were loyal to the Du Couteau even when Marcus disappeared. Was the rumored killer responsible for all this? If not, Talon would still be willing to take initiative on tracking this suspect down and avenge Marcus' comrades._

 _Demacian, they said. He had never heard of one who plays dirty. Assassinating a camp full of soldiers in one night was too overpowered for one. Taking three hostages was overwhelming. Or maybe this Demacian had wit and took the chance to strike at the dead of night. The guards were never enough. The intoxicated soldiers were no use against this new threat. This threat was new, or new to them at least. They had no lead, no name, no information whatsoever about his identity. The tracks are clean, method of killing, swift. Whether pierced by multiple arrow through the chest or between the eyes, none of the soldiers survived the attack. It was as if the plan was devised efficiently by one who have known Noxian soldiers too well. From the time they switch guards to the nights when they pull out a drink from their pockets. The ranger lived behind enemy lines and he had to be cautious. Once he step foot into the forest where the camp was, he was out of his element. It was a ranger's territory._

 _He paid attention to Katarina's words and borrowed the file that stated the analysis about the assassination._

 _"And one more thing," Katarina trailed off, pointing to the phrase that was crucial to the success of his pursuit without any injuries._

 _"The culprit has some kind of hawk for an ally, watch your head." She warned, both confident and concerned about her youngest sibling._

 _He was back to that night he once met her as he remembered how her molten gold irises made him concious about his current state, pinned by a Demacian, a woman no less. A woman so strong yet so exquisite had him completely stunned. His eyes remained fixed on hers, the same glint of fear and caution visible in her eyes. She is human after all. Just like him, she was independent and driven by her personal endeavors yet following orders from those with powers far superior than hers._

 _And as just as he thought that she had known nothing about him, she spoke, with her velvety voice and chapped lips._

 _"The Blade's Shadow."_ _She stared in disbelief, grasping his chin, lips curving in triumph. She double-checked if it was really him. He might be another decoy just like when she tracked down the dummy assassin easily and brought him to justice._

 _With her other hand busy, he attempted to roll them over and flip the situation. He succeeded, earning a grunt from the woman. There was something so intimate about their position but he didn't mind. Once he extracts information from her and slice her throat, his injuries were worth it._ _Some part of him just wanted to leave her there alive, mind scarred with the memory of this encounter._

 _He gritted his teeth as he pinned her arms to the forest floor. She thrust her knee into his gut and rolled away from him. The Blade's Shadow earned another shot to his left shoulder. He countered_ _by tossing three blades onto the area beneath her chest. She dodged, one blade pierced her left shoulder as his revenge._

 _Disarm him. Disarm him, she thought before punching him square in the face with her right hand._

 _There was something about her that he can't seem to put into words. Her dark hair, amber eyes and full lips were a sight to his tired eyes The moonlight was too harsh on some of the features he had noticed the most about her. She seemed to know this part of the forest well as she sprung into a tree trunk and launched her foot into his forest that separated his faction from the vast outlands that led to the territory of foes hid this exquisitely dangerous ranger. Somehow he forgot about what was happening until his instincts kicked in and grabbed her ankle. Before he could blink, his hand recieved an arrow shot, forcing him to let go._

 _He heard a caw from the enormous bird of prey hovering about them. 'Watch your head'_ _was Katarina's last warning before he took off into the night. He won't let her down of course. Demacians are scum, he reminded himself._

 _The subtle praises of the analysis were understatements_ _once she proved that she could indeed, best one of the most feared assassins in all of Noxus. A street rat who have risen to power, rebellious to the Government, loyal to the Du Couteau. Him, a man like any other who craved more than the gold in his pockets and a roof over his head. It's a shame that she had to die by his hands. He was having fun after all. A worthy opponent. It was a rare sight to see. He'd never thought that the assassin Katarina had been talking about was this woman._

His heart was hammering in his chest, a sudden panic through his body as he looked up to see the ceiling staring back at him. And there it was, another day he had to go through before having the next. And it doesn't seem to end. He felt as if he was a slave. Or a puppet, with the summoners pulling at his strings. He doesn't give a damn about Noxus. He was there to find Marcus' true killer himself. The man who welcomed him into their lives. The man who fed him, took him into care and even treated him as if he was one of his own children.

Back then he had three suspects:

Swain, Quinn and an unknown suspect yet to be seen.

He'd observed them through their years even before their servitude in the Institute of War.

Swain was his best bet. Of course he could have. After Marcus' disappearance he had risen to the highest rank a Noxian could ever dream of. To him, life was bitter. It was cruel a cruel void that sucked everything in its path. Some fought against it, some are just lucky. Unlike him. Orphaned at a young age, or at least didn't get a chance to meet his parents. His only memories are of the foul-smelling grounds of Noxian soil and the scent of steel with a hint of blood.

Last night however was an exception. It reminded him how life could be sweet for a change.

By just swinging by her room and slipping in through the window made him feel more of a man than a monster. _Or a stalker, really._ He's a weird admirer. An awkward one. He had little to no knowledge about courtship or whatever customs her Nation has that he doesn't know of. Not that he had plans to court her though, _does he?_

He closed his eyes again as he remembered the way he watched her sleep. Unlike the other times he saw her, she looked more at peace as if she trusted that he wouldn't do anything that would hurt her. Not the first time he bedded her, nor the night when she arrived in the league but at that moment of all nights. She let him in. She trusted him as if she read his mind that was free of grim intentions. Or maybe she was tired of being vigilant around him. Maybe she gave him the pleasure to sate his curiosity.

Or maybe she knew that he missed her.

He would naturally avoid that thought but his gaze upon her says otherwise. Like the assassin he was, his steps were muted, gusts of wind that entered the room were heard. He kneeled in front of the bed where she faced, one knee placed on the floor as he slowly reached to brush the streak of violet hair that shrouded her face. His heart warmed whenever he watched her breathe. Every one of his attempts to keep her alive and safe led up to these kind of moments where he cherished her existence. She kept his cold, rigid heart warm.

He had leaned in and pressed his lips onto her forehead. She didn't rouse. _She wanted him there, that night_.

He got up from his bed, showered and head out to the mess hall and chew on whatever food that they served.

Every morning reminded him how harsh and lonely this life could be.

Maybe he had to take his mind off of things through more exertion. His world shouldn't _fully_ revolve around this woman.

* * *

"So I told him not to do anything rash because we both know that we're stuck in there." His

sister said, stabbing her fork into the meat that she ignored a few minutes earlier.

"Zed too strange to be a skin partner?" Morgana asked, drinking a mug of dark, unidentified liquid.

"Too serious to even cooperate with festivities. I thought Harrowing was supposed to be fun." Her eyes drifted to her little brother's hunched form.

"How about you Talon, how is being partnered to that narcissistic maniac going on? Lucky to be the first guy he's partnered with, right?" She was talking about Jhin, The Virtuoso. That freak he's been stuck with since the fitting phase.

"You're too chatty today, woman." He countered, not wanting to recall the awkward moments.

"You know how much I miss Cassie sitting with us at a table, Talon."

Katarina was desparate. And he knows it, yes but something seems off about her that he couldn't sense. She was being less sarcastic and less sour-faced than usual. Cassiopeia as always, was being snobbish- too snobbish this week, leaving Katarina and Talon alone in their usual table. The eldest Du Couteau sister who was always upset about these matters, would usually look for someone to drag along their table and chat with.

"Alright, he's nuts. That's it." Talon admitted, internally cringed as he remembered when the infamous Virtuoso was in the same room as him. Like the many times he "performed" in Noxus, he remained mysterious and unpredictable as the Noxian assassin put it. Seeing the colors of the flag on that man made his gut wrench. He was that kind of Ionian, like the Zed that Katarina had brought up right after they sat on the benches.

Ionians were diverse. From gentle warriors to manic murderers, they shone in their own ways. Like how the long-haired samurai appealed most to the younger summoners and how the enlightened Karma appealed most to the wiser ones. The way they dressed themselves intrigued him. They may have virtues that caged their true potential but they were free in different aspects.

"My thoughts remain boggled about him. True, he is a maniac but somehow more useful than other marksmen that they pair up with me." Morgana said, defending the "useful" narcissistic psychopath.

"Well, it's a good thing that the fitting stage ended, right? Now you have a new clownsuit in the closet." Kat teased, slicing through the food on her plate.

"I might wear it later to battle. Pleasing Ionian summoners and all." As Talon finished his meal, he looked at the giant orb in the middle of the room that previewed the live morning shift of some of the champions.

He looked at the screen, surprised to see that his scout was the one who had been carrying the game. She's almost at 27 kills with 9 deaths and 11 assists. That was way too strong. The last time he had been in that kind of spotlight was a little over a few months ago. That was one of her capabilities, her raw strength displayed in battle.

"You seem troubled lately, Talon." Morgana sat in front of him, her gown flooding the floor with fabric across him.

"I was having thoughts to myself, thank you very much."

"I kid. It's just that I'm not getting used to this duller version of the glorified bastard in front of me."

He glared at the fallen angel, her words dripped with toxic. "I don't follow."

"Use that sensible head of yours and sniff out the change, is always a conflict after one Du Couteau member parts. I sense that Cassie will go back to Shurima any time now."

"You sense she's in trouble?"

"I sense nothing. That brat has just been getting out of hand even before she turned into the monster she is now. I'm still concerned of course. Keep her nose out of things."

"She can handle herself, I can assure that." He replied sarcastically. Why should he care about Cassie? The last time Katarina and he had offered, _mostly Katarina_ , she almost threw one of her childish tantrums at them. She insisted, telling them to fuck off and reasuring them that she was a grown-ass woman.

The orb shook as if it exploded, the familiar voice the announcer boomed across the mess hall.

"RED TEAM VICTORY" She said, a round of applause from some of the champions who had found the match entertaining. The conflict in the Middle lane between The Master of Shadows, Zed and The Wings of Demacia, Quinn was the highlight of the game, followed by the conflicted Rengar and his summoner who have been complaining about how The Starchild kept her team mates alive just in time after he'd dealt damage.

"Poor Rengar. Last time I saw him in the rift, he was mowing through champions like grass." Morgana commented as Talon stood up and left, preparing for his assigned match.

" _And they said she'd been too weak in the rift to continue..._ "

" _We can't survive those assults, she outdone herself._ "

" _Least popular Demacian in the spotlight, eh?_ "

He heard the other champions murmur.

 **Author's notes:**

 _I have missed you all my friends! Next chapter is about the dinner that Lux invited her to. A little bit of boy talk and flashbacks and the issue about whether Quinn is a lesbian and shit. I just hate those people who thinks she is._


End file.
